Golden
by Twilight to Midnight
Summary: 1812 London. Bella and Edward meet amidst the glittering regency beau monde.It may be attraction at first sight...but certainly not love. Edward would fight for her, but Bella must fight herself...to trust him and allow herself to fall in love. AU. AH. Bx
1. Once Upon A Time

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**Disclaimer: I don't own it. Edward is simply on loan to me for the duration of this story.**

**A/N: Thought I normally stick to HP stories...I thought I'd try my hand at twilight.**

**I'm not sure if many other stories like this exist on but I sincerely hope this comes off as original. To be honest I love regency romance novels and so does one of my dearest friends (the one who actually introduced me to Twilight in the first place) so I thought it would be rather interesting to combine these two worlds.**

**After all...Edward has always had that old world gentleman thing going for him...**

**This story is AU and all human.**

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1812 London, England.

"Stop Isabella! Stop this instant! Must you act like such a ruffian, you are a proper young lady, the daughter of a baron; act like it!"

I sighed in pure agitation, suppressing my sudden desire to fidget just to spite my mother but I knew it would only launch her into another fit of nerves, something which I was not prepared to stomach even for the sake of my own comfort.

"Mother." I whispered to the ever so proper Lady Renee Swan, Baroness of Torrington, "these stays are…"

She pursed her lips angrily and I watched, somewhat on edge, as she turned to stare expectantly into my eyes.

"Yes, Isabella Marie?" Her tone did not belie very much patience.

I hated it when she called me that, it made me feel like I was 10 years old again, being caught with my skirts all muddied from playing with Jacob, the steward's son. I had never had an ear blistering worst than that particular occasion. It wasn't that mama looked down on the working class, in fact she quite adored Jacob, but it was the mere fact that my wild, exuberant ways meant that I took after my father more than her, which was a rather detrimental thing in mama's rather skewed eyes.

Her favourite phrase was always 'you are your father's daughter'. She used to say it with such an indulgent fondness when I was child, but nowadays, as I approached the daunting age of 20, it had become a phrase I associated with the tone that bordered on disappointment.

I suppose part of that despair was directed at my father. Theirs was not a marriage of perfect harmony. Mama and papa had married young, he blinded by her beauty and elegance, she by his charm and title. They had started off rather happily, in love as so few of the aristocratic couples were, but the chips in the façade came soon enough.

My birth was the first blow. Not a son, like my father so needed, a male heir on whom the entailed estate, honourable family name and title would pass, but a female child.

Papa loved me none the less, in fact, I'm quite sure papa couldn't have loved me any more even if I did turn out to be a boy. As the years progressed and it became more and more obvious that Lady Swan could bear her husband no more children, papa devoted all his time and energy to raising me.

A fine education my Bella shall have, he would boast.

And I did.

Literature, mathematics, science, music, arts and languages; he even went so far as to teach me to ride astride like a man and shoot as well as any other.

Mama had despaired at this, claimed that Charles Swan was raising his daughter all wrong. They fought about this often; I can still hear their arguments echoing down the gloomy halls of Torrington manor with the howling Yorkshire winds as their symphonic backdrop.

By the time I was 9, Renee Swan had stopped caring; not because she had resigned herself to my upbringing being somewhat unconventional, but because she had taken a lover.

Phillip.

That's all I ever knew of him. Officially, of course. From the servant's gossip, I gathered that he was of the merchant class, younger than my mother, handsome and a man that Renee had loved quite desperately.

Papa knew. He always knew. But Baron Torrington was always too much of a gentle soul to stand in the way of another's happiness, even if it was at his own expense. He turned a blind eye to my mother's sudden glowing happiness, so long as she didn't flaunt the affair, he would ignore it.

It killed a part of him I think. He had loved mama very much despite her shortcomings.

But good things never last; the affair soon became the material for public fodder and gossip and my legitimacy even came into question. Heart broken as she was, Renee had broken ties with Phillip, if only to protect me.

In my younger days, I blamed my parents for this scandal; mama for having the affair and papa for allowing it. I knew that should I ever be presented in society, the question of legitimacy would always haunt my every move in the ton; my character questioned and held to light against my mother's reckless behaviour.

Perhaps that was why my debut in London society had been delayed till now.

Or perhaps, it was because papa had always harboured hopes that I would marry into the Yorkshire landed gentry, if only to spare me the pain that a London season would incur if the hint of scandal still lingered about the Swan family.

"Mama, these stays are uncomfortable! How am I to…?"

Lady Swan cut me off mid-sentence, her glare glacial as she stared me down.

"You are not in Yorkshire anymore; you cannot go about London unbound and defying proper society protocol as your father allowed you to do so at home."

I felt the heat creep along my cheeks even before the colour stained my complexion in the three-paned mirrors.

The junior seamstresses giggled behind their hands but were silenced when mama sent them another chilling glare. She dismissed them with a sweep of her gloved hand and stepped forward, pulling me from the raised podium on which I had been perched for the past two hours.

Her eyes softened; the cornflower blue orbs boring into my own depthless brown eyes.

"I know you would prefer to be wandering your father's library rather than visiting modiste after modiste but it is necessary. You must secure a husband." Renee paused, her smile sad and resigned.

"Your father cannot believe that any man would ever be good enough for you and…and I am quite inclined to agree." I shifted uncomfortably in her arms; mama had always been rather over-emotional. "But your father and I won't live forever and it would be our fondest wish in life to see you happily settled and well cared for…heaven knows you need it."

I felt a chagrined blush stain my cheeks. It was a well known fact back in Yorkshire that I was rather prone to…accidents.

"I know mama…I really will try…" I tried to reassure her; I couldn't help it. I had been doing so since I was a child; Renee had always retained a certain youth-like innocence; where as she would laugh and tease, saying that I was an old soul, wise beyond my years.

But of course Lady Swan paid little notice.

"…for you know that Michael will inherit…"

I groaned silently.

Yes. Cousin Michael, Mr. Mike Newton. I have known him since I was a child. I have disliked him since I was a child.

Papa had brought him to the estate when I was eight years old when it became quite clear that the titles and all it entailed would pass onto papa's cousin's son. Mike, as he preferred to be called, was to be trained to manage the estate and to become a proper member of aristocracy.

It had upset me to no end; at that age I simply could not understand why British law would not allow me to inherit what should have been ancestrally the Swan legacy.

Baron Torrington had laughed quite sedately, casual and uncaring.

_Ours is not an old title, my Bella._ He had explained; in fact, papa was only the second baron of Torrington, the title having been awarded to my grandfather as a military honour. _It matters very little if the title continues on in our family._

What upset me more was that Mr. Newton soon developed an unfettered infatuation with me, something which only seemed to intensify as I aged. There had been countless occasions on which he had insinuated a desire to marry me, a notion that Renee had encouraged initially in the hopes of keeping a Swan in the Torrington blood line, but it soon became clear that I was completely uninterested and mama thought it wise not to push the matter.

This brings me back to my present predicament, husband hunting among the London Ton.

My only expectation for my first season is to establish my position as a wallflower and then promptly deflect any interest directed at me which I expect to be rather simple considering that I was not a beauty, had a rather lacklustre dowry and had no particular important connections to speak of.

Admittedly, I was only here to appease my parents. I have seen their example of marriage and I am less than keen to embark on that particular adventure myself. Once I've had a few unsuccessful seasons, I just know papa would see reason and sign over my 3000 pound dowry for my own personal use.

Then, I could establish a quiet, solitary life in the country. Perhaps a nice cottage, I could plant a small vegetable patch; it certainly would be practical, I could likely afford a maid if I invested well…

"Isabella!"

I snapped to attention, smiling sheepishly as Lady Torrington threw up her hands in a gesture of defeat, promptly ushering several meek seamstresses back into the fitting room.

"What will I do with you, Isabella? No man will want a wife who…"

Renee was ranting again and the seamstresses were giggling.

I ignored them. Now was the time to lament…I had the entire season ahead of me; months of picnics, soirees and balls, endless clumsy curtseys and awkward dances with equally as awkward partners.

The nauseous feeling soon found a permanent home within the pit of my stomach and it had nothing to do with the intent look upon my mother's scheming face.

* * *

My stomach was twisting in knots even as my fingers clenched and unclenched at my sides. Being presented at court had no been my idea at all. With my propensity to become completely tangled in my petticoats and landing in an ungraceful heap of muddied skirts, I had not thought being presented to the prince regent to be much of a good idea.

Mama had insisted however.

It was nearing the start of the London season and I needed to be presented at court, mama, having already procured annual vouchers for Almack's had insisted upon it.

It was that…or my own debutante ball. Just the thought of descending down the flight of stairs at our London residence in Berkeley square under the watchful eye of hundreds of unknown guests had given me a jolt of discomfort.

I chose to be presented at court. A wise decision on my part in my opinion. Walking on a flat surface or braving a flight of stairs? Even prinny could not dissuade me from it.

"Have some respect, Isabella! Our Prince Regent is not to be mocked." Lady Isabella Swan hissed, her eyes darting around erratically, eyeing the other debutantes with a critical sweep.

Damn, I winced. I must have spoken my thoughts out loud.

"My apologies mama."

Renee's eyes softened immediately as she grasped my gloved hand.

"Just remember darling, try not to fall over."

I smiled wanly, more a grimace and a bearing of teeth rather than a real smile but Renee seemed satisfied and she released my hand, quickly ushering me into the line of debutantes. I was one of the last in the line I noticed, a meek somewhat washed out girl stood nervously behind me in a pale gown.

"Ugh! Watch your step!" A sharp voice screeched and my eyes widened in horror. Oh no Bella, don't blush, don't blush, don't blush.

I raised my eyes to the girl before me, meeting her overbearing blue gaze and needless to say, I blushed.

"Please excuse me, my lady." I managed to say, the blush burning disconcertingly on my cheeks.

I watched her as I would watch a wild creature, trying not to frown at the furious look in her icy blue eyes. She was a beauty, pale blond hair, bright blue gaze, a tall willowy form that suited the empire waist gowns now in fashion.

She sneered at me slightly and turned away.

Relief swept through me. Thank goodness, I really had no desire for a confrontation in the Prince Regent's sitting rooms. As I straightened my sagging shoulders, a small hand tapped me meekly upon the shoulder.

"I…I would not worry about Lady Mallory, she dislikes everyone she perceives as competition."

"Competition?" I asked, confused. "What competition?"

The girl shook her head slightly, her eyes wide behind her fluttering fan.

"Haven't you heard? The Duke of Aubyn has returned to town, every eligible young lady has set her cap on him! The Mallory family have practically claimed him as their private property! If Lauren does not catch him, then her elder sister Tanya is sure to!"

I shook my head meekly. I had never even heard of this Duke and I was completely certain that one of the Mallory girls was bound to make a fine catch of him, I really saw no point in the hostility.

She smiled complacently and I shifted to look at her and couldn't help but be cheered by the friendly face. We were of a similar height and I felt an instant rapport as her hazel eyes sparkled in the morning light.

"Lady Angela Weber…" The girl bobbed a polite curtsey. "Daughter of the Earl of Asterley." She added as an afterthought.

I clumsily returned the gesture and held out a hand which she took instantly, her grasp warm and gentle.

"I'm Bella Swan."

Angela gave me a surprised look and I instantly realised my mistake. Yet again, I had lapsed into informality and I cleared my throat in embarrassment.

"Lady Swan, daughter of the Baron of Torrington."

Her mouth formed a polite smile as she dropped my hand.

"You may call me Angela if you would allow me to call you Bella." She ventured.

I couldn't help but smile. Perhaps this season would not be such a waste after all. I had no time to reply however as Renee had spotted me facing the wrong direction and quickly prodded me into turning and following the line of retreating debutantes.

Lifting my pale pink silk skirts slightly, I rushed to catch them amid the titters of the watching matrons. From the corner of my eye, I could see Renee lowering her mortified face into her elegantly gloved hands and I felt the beginnings of shame rise in my throat.

Angela was laughing lightly behind me and I resisted the urge to smile too. I knew my presentation would not go off without a hiccup of two, nothing to worry about really.

* * *

The prince regent had once been a handsome man; at least, that was what mama told me. I didn't really see anything handsome about the rounded jaw or the somewhat over-prominent nose.

He did have the baby-faced look about him I suppose. He might have been handsome at one point of his life, perhaps when he looked a little less like a beached whale.

Oh dear. That really wasn't terrible Christian of me.

It matters little now. Quite surprisingly, my presentation went without any unfortunate accidents or stumbles. The prince regent gave me a polite but distinctly disinterested smile, his eyes straying to Lauren often enough to cause her to preen, and then…done.

Surprisingly anti-climactical really. I think I rather liked it.

I emerged from the receiving rooms with my cheeks still burning with heat and headed immediately into my mother's open and welcoming arms.

"It went well." I had informed her and Renee had simply embraced me gently and murmured with a gentle assurance.

"Of course it did, my love."

Thinking back now, I cannot begin to fathom what real purpose that served but I am not one to complain. I can only hope that this ball goes as well as my presentation went.

Lord and Lady Goodwin were hosting a small gathering; by ton standards, small meant 200 people rather than 500, and I must say that I'm rather dreading it. To be drifting about a room of so many people of high or higher status with not a familiar soul in sight was never my idea of fun.

Goodness, I wish I was home in Yorkshire, tucked away…

Cousin Mike came to mind.

Alright. Perhaps not Yorkshire…perhaps Oxford instead; Cambridge even. I had always wanted to attend university, an idea which is undoubtedly a result of my rather unconventional upbringing.

"Isabella Marie!"

I flinched. Mother was on the prowl once more. She had spent her seasons as a diamond of the first waters, pursued and coveted by every eligible bachelor with marriage on their minds; she expected me to follow in her footsteps. Needless to say, she was about to be disappointed.

I had never socialised well with the opposite sex. It was rather like a mutual agreement; I took no interest in them, they took no interest in me. Perhaps I did have a little too much of my father in me.

Wrapping a rebellious plain brown curl around my gloved finger, I stared down at the almost Grecian white gown I donned and grimaced. White made me look pale. Not the pleasant sort of pale which all ladies strove to accomplish by keeping out of direct sunlight but the kind of pale that indicated my skin had never seen the light of day. Full stop.

Papa said I was translucent; I'm inclined to agree.

"Bella, my love. Perhaps, you should listen to your mother." Lord Torrington intoned deeply as he rubbed his eyes. "You must marry well."

I reached out and stroked his hand, noting the prominent blue veins which pulsed beneath the skin. He was still strong however; still infused with that innate strength I would forever associate with my father. He wouldn't leave me to the mercies of the world, not even if he had to stave off death itself. In time, he would come to understand that I had no desire to marry and since I had no ancestral legacy to pass on, he would not be too hurt by the lack of grandchildren. I only hoped he would see reason soon, I don't think I could brave more than a year or two of a London season.

"Isabella Marie!"

"I'm listening mama. Really I am." I fixed what I hope was a focused gaze upon Lady Torrington's pacing form.

"Oh?" My mother questioned. "What have I just said?"

I searched my conscious desperately. What had she been saying? Was it something about papa…no surely not?

Renee swan gave an exasperated sigh and threw up her elegantly gloved hands in seeming supplication as if she were asking for mercy from a higher power.

"His Grace, Lord Edward Cullen will be in attendance tonight. His first appearance since he left on his sojourn to the savage lands. You need to be on your best behaviour…"

I protested instantly. There was no way I was going to set my cap on this Edward Cullen, Duke or not.

"Mama! I will not vie for his attention; goodness knows that…"

"I do not expect you to, Isabella." Renee said comfortingly, her pacing ceased mid-stride as she pivoted to move towards me. "I only ask that you not make yourself a fool in the eyes of one of the richest and most powerful men in England."

I did not feel shame as Renee said this, only an intense sort of relief. Thank goodness, I didn't think it was a good idea to flaunt my clumsiness in front of Duke.

"I will give him a very wide berth mama…I swear to you…"

"Good." Renee murmured. "With those rumours about…"

Papa intervened quickly. "Which I am quite sure are not true! Lord Aubyn would never…well, he simply wouldn't. Leave it be, my lady. Do not fill my Bella's sensible mind with fantasy."

Mama's mouth closed with an audible snap and I watched as she pressed her fine lips into firm line. Her eyes flicked to mine quickly and the faint glow of warmth within them reassured me quickly.

"Come my dear." She said with a dismissive chuckle. "Let us be off. There is a very fine line between fashionably late and unforgivably rude."

I didn't understand the distinction but I nodded in agreement regardless. There was no use arguing with mama when it came to issues on propriety and the _beau monde_. Besides, the point was moot. I intended to spend as little time in this farce of a breeding market as possible. When papa sees reason, then I can happily wash my hands of mama's odd and incomprehensible society etiquette and spend the rest of my seniority in the company of good literature and a homey hearth fire.

Soon enough, our carriage was rolling along the cobbled Mayfair roads, I kept my eyes carefully focused on the passing scenery, my hands lay clenched in my lap to stop mama from noticing the tremor.

I will admit readily enough that I'm not fond of social occasions but what could you really expect of a child raised on those lonely Yorkshire moors?

The roiling movements of the carriage didn't much help the unpleasant sensation simmering in my stomach but I kept a firm grip on the urge to be sick. I'm sure mama wouldn't appreciate me ruining my brand new gown. She, for whatever reason, was insistently fond of the garment.

All too soon, we were pulling up alongside the opulent Goodwin residence. The Mayfair townhouse already seemed to be filled to the brim and spilling over, countless other black carriages, emblazoned with crests and the like already lined the elegant residential square.

Oh dear father in heaven.

I was quite suddenly desperate for my rising nausea to overwhelm me. Perhaps then, mama would permit me to return home and plead my ill disposition with our hosts; one glance at Renee Swan's graceful features dissuaded me of the idea instantly.

"Spine straight Isabella; smile, glide…here, pinch your cheeks my dear, you look pale."

I felt the quick sting in my cheeks and shrugged off Renee's unnecessary gesture. I knew I would light up like a bonfire in mid July as soon as I stepped into the already over-packed room.

The door of the carriage swung open and Lord Swan leapt eagerly from the carriage and held his hand out for mama. He gave me a reassuring wink and reached back into the carriage for me while Renee surreptitiously adjusted her skirts.

With my feet on firm ground, the nausea seemed to subside a little. Only a little though, I still felt those ominous butterflies making a home for themselves in my stomach but at least now I felt a little less wretched.

"Come my dear. Time to present my beautiful daughter to the rest of the world." Charles Swan chuckled quietly. "Well. The world of London society at least. You'll do fine, Bella dear. Remember…we're not expecting you to bring back a prince…a well settled gentleman will do just fine."

I nodded absently just to humour him. Best to let papa hold onto that idea for a little longer; what he didn't know would not harm him. I tightened my grip around his hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

Papa returned the gesture in kind and I suddenly felt compelled to honour his wishes if only to please him and mama. As quickly as the thought flashed through my mind, it left. No…papa and mama would deal just fine with the disappointment.

With my arm still tucked in his, papa led me to his circle of middle aged friends and as the names and titles flew past my ears, it happened. I felt it. That strange prickly itch of my scalp under all the artistically arranged curls; it pushed at my consciousness no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.

Someone was watching me. I was sure of.

Snapping my fan open as casually as I could, I fanned my already blazing face and made a less than casual sweep of the room with my eyes. I saw nothing at first; just the usual assortment of feathered head pieces and carefully combed hair covering progressively thinning heads.

Upon the second sweep, my eyes were caught. My hands stilled upon the fan, the steady waves of moving air ceasing as my fingers unknowingly tried to snap the stems of the fan.

From the tightness in my chest, I knew I wasn't breathing but I couldn't force my chest to move. Instead, I stared back (in a most unladylike manner as mama would have undoubtedly reprimanded). I should glance away, lower my eyes bashfully and force a light becoming blush to come to my cheeks – one should never stare at a strange gentleman.

That was impractical in more than one way. Firstly, my cheeks were already an unhealthy shade of scarlet and secondly, I couldn't stop staring even if my entire reputation depended upon it.

He had the most beautiful emerald eyes. Like liquid wilderness and unrelenting seas…I reprimanded myself silently. No. Bella. This was imprudent…I really should not…

Of their own accord, my eyes began roaming his features.

He was stoic. That was the only way to describe it. His face was as unsmiling as his eyes. Aquiline nose, slashing cheekbones, high proud forehead and a serious no-nonsense mouth devoid of any source of mirth; regardless, he was a handsome man…

No…

Handsome wasn't quite the right word…he was…

…beautiful…

There was no other word for it. Tall, masculine and…beautiful.

When my eyes wandered back to his, the gentleman had lowered his eyelids so that only a sliver of his irises showed. It must have been a trick of the light, but for a moment I swore I saw a glint of gold.

A closed lace fan slapped him on the arm and he turned his head toward the interruption. The spell was broken and I could breathe again. The tightness lifted from my chest and I pulled in a gasping breath.

Tempted to laugh at my own foolishness, I surveyed his circle of friends. I did not recognise a single one unsurprisingly but just as I was about to turn away, I caught a flash of blond hair.

Lady Lauren Mallory…and beside her…another icily beautiful girl with the same pale blonde hair…most likely her sister Tanya…

As I watched, both leant forward to tap their fans coquettishly against the immaculately tailored sleeve of a black evening jacket…belonging to the gentleman I had been caught staring at.

Gasping at the realisation, I looked up to survey his half turned face again.

Edward Cullen. Duke of Aubyn. Surely it couldn't be.

* * *

**A/N: There! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! It took me 5 weeks to write because I hadn't quite settled into the first person style. Be that as it may, I hope it turned out all right...tell me what you think.**

**Always**

**Twilight to Midnight**


	2. A Simple Waltz

Disclaimer: It all belongs to SM. I don't claim any credit except for this plot.

A/N: I hope you all enjoy the chapter and send me any questions you may have.

* * *

It wasn't. It couldn't be. I refuse to believe that I had just been caught staring at a Duke. Good gracious, wasn't that exactly what mama had insisted I avoid?

An uncomfortable lump formed in my throat and I tried swallowing it to no avail. I was fanning myself desperately now, sure that little beads of sweat were dotting my forehead.

"Bella, my dear, you look awfully flushed, shall I fetch you a glass of punch?"

I looked at papa and could barely register his words. What did he just say to me? Oh, darn it all…I nodded my head tentatively and he seemed satisfied with my answer as he went strolling off, parting the crowd with an ease and confidence that came with his age.

"Miss Swan, how are you enjoying London this season?"

I dragged my eyes away from Lord Swan's retreating form and eyed the man who had spoken to me; one of papa's old friends if I could recall correctly. He was around papa's age certainly; swarthy visage, sagging chin and a rounded physique which seemed on the verge of bursting the seams of his garish evening jacket.

Lord Crowhurst. Yes, that was it. Shaking my head to rid myself of the other uncharitable thoughts, I answered as demurely as I could, which meant a general agreeable response about enjoying the seasonable weather.

It was a blatant lie of course; the start of the traditional London season occurred around late summer and the weather had been muggy enough to carry the putrid smells of the slums to even the most well-heeled areas of Mayfair, Belgravia and St. James.

Lord Crowhurst chortled as if I had said something amusing and continued on in a blustering manner.

"Aye. Good good, I was wondering when Charles would show London his cloistered little daughter."

I was tempted to argue. I wasn't cloistered. Yorkshire wasn't exactly the North Pole, I hadn't lacked for company at all, in fact, I think I quite liked Yorkshire society infinitely more than the pomp of London.

I murmured noncommittally and the earl chortled again.

"A good quiet girl, you are." The man was staring and fortunately this time, I had the presence of mind to lower my eyes. "Modest little mouse…good good."

A mouse. Yes well, I suppose that seemed like a fair comparison. I was all brown after all; brown hair, brown eyes. I had no vanity to uphold so his comment failed to disturb me. I gave him a weak smile which must had come off as a sign of timidity because he nodded to me approvingly once more.

Lord Crowhurst stared a moment longer and I began to feel uncomfortable in my own skin, more so than usual. I watched as he took a deep breath, his chest puffing up and straining the seams of his waistcoat. I was sorely tempted to ask him for the name of his tailor, the man must be some sort of genius to be able to make such sturdy clothing.

"Miss Swan," He began hesitantly, flushing slightly for whatever reason I could not fathom. "Your father tells me, you enjoy embroidery, tell me, have you…"

What was the man talking about? Embroidery was an exercise in mass blood loss for me, both papa and mama could attest to that. In fact, I was quite sure I had not touched my sewing basket in close to a year, perhaps two; fortunately I was saved from answering when a tall figure approached our circle. Lord Crowhurst turned immediately to the newcomer, and with all the pomp and ceremony he could muster, the man bowed.

I could swear I heard a seam tear and took a discreet look around the circle to see if anyone else had heard it too. If they had, none showed it, the group of somewhat middle-aged lords were all staring steadily at the newcomer.

Merciful father in heaven, what was so interesting about…oh…

I was staring into the fathomless green eyes again, only this time, he was much, much closer. In fact, he was standing just beyond Lord Crowhurst's wide girth. The earl might have been speaking gibberish for all I cared as I couldn't have heard a single word of it even if he had been screaming at the top of his lungs.

The green-eyed gentleman seemed to pay no attention either as he was resolutely locked in our little impolite stare off. His formerly serious mouth was set in a charmingly crooked grin.

Ah. Perhaps someone had heard the ripping noise after all. As if he had read my thoughts, the gentleman glanced pointedly at Lord Crowhurst's right shoulder, inviting me to follow his bright gaze.

I obliged him willingly and bit my lip to suppress the rising mirth.

Lo and behold, there was a rip after all; at the seam of where the sleeve connected to the rest of the appalling jacket, an edge of snowy white shirt showing through.

Oh dear…was it polite in such a situation to point out the fashion malfunction to Lord Crowhurst? I decided against it and glanced away instead. I didn't want to meet the green-eyed gaze again; I was unprepared for the humour which lurked deep in those eyes.

"Perhaps you would introduce us, Crowhurst." A deep and unfamiliar voice caused me to snap my attention back. It was a pleasant voice I decided, deep and just husky enough to allow a certain air of mystery. Comforting yet unnerving, a contradiction surely…but it was what it was.

The earl, interrupted mid-speech, seemed flustered for only a moment, blubbering bemusedly before he regained his verbal pace.

"Ahem, yes." Crowhurst turned to me again. "Your Grace, may I present Miss Isabella Swan, daughter of Baron Torrington, formerly of Yorkshire."

I was tempted to release the long-suffering sigh which rose in my throat, I hated formal introductions. Instead, I lowered myself into what I hoped was a graceful curtsey. Darn, I almost forgot that it was custom to curtsey more deeply to a duke.

Sinking more deeply into the polite courtly gesture was not a good idea. I wobbled a little but managed to raise myself into an erect position before I embarrassed myself further.

The corners of his eyes were crinkled in mild amusement. Ah. So he had noticed the ungainly gesture.

"Miss Swan, I have the honour of introducing you to his Grace, Lord Edward Cullen, Duke of Aubyn." The man in question bowed dutifully, an effortlessly elegant movement which could only have been bred from generations of the finest aristocratic blood. The man was darn near enviable.

"A pleasure, Miss Swan." The husky voice murmured in finely cultured tones.

Oh dear. I wasn't quite sure how to reply, was this where I sink into another curtsey or was I meant to simper? No, surely that wasn't it.

A rather flustering awkward silence enveloped our circle and I had the firm impression that I was meant to respond in kind but nothing would leave my mouth as if my voice was trapped within my throat.

"Isabella!" Oh, thank goodness. I was never gladder to hear Renee's shrill voice cutting through the hum of the surrounding conversation. "Isabella! Where have you been, I've been looking for you all over; Lady Dennison wants to introduce you to her son…"

Mama trailed off as she caught sight of the company. She never did like papa's friends. She thought they were a bunch of blustery windbags…not that she ever said it aloud; however crass she could be sometimes, Lady Swan knew when to hold her tongue.

After curtseying to the crowd of aging gentlemen, I watched as mama sunk into a deep and flawless curtsey, acknowledging the Duke before turning a frosty, barely concealed glare upon his handsome…beautiful visage. Goodness…why on earth was mama being so hostile?

"Your Grace." Renee muttered grudgingly.

"My Lady." His Grace returned formally. His tone polite with no hint of the hostility mama showed.

"I knew your mother, the former Duchess of Aubyn. May I offer my sincerest condolences for hers and your father's unfortunate passing?" Renee words seemed more accusing than sincere. "It must have been a very…_sudden_ shock."

My eye flickered between mama and the Duke. What on earth…why was mama so…

The Duke replied, completely unflustered. "It was very sad and terribly sudden. I miss my parents dearly; thank you for your concern." He turned his attention back towards me and I felt the full force of those eyes once more…my God, were they gold or green?

It was a clear dismissal of the subject at hand but Renee, normally so attuned to subtle nuances of polite conversation, ploughed on blithely.

"You were away in the barbarian lands when you received the news were you not?"

A hint of something inexplicable slipped into his expression and I watched as his eyes seemed to lose the last fragments of green and completely became that unearthly gold.

"Indeed I was," The Duke murmured without a hint of emotion. "I was sorry to have been so far from home when it occurred. When the news reached me, they had already perished and been committed to the ground."

"A terrible accident was it not?" Mama's tone was beginning to bite harshly and the surrounding Lords and Ladies had paused in their conversations to watch the conflict like bloodhounds eager for a kill.

Though I could not fathom Renee's purpose in pursuing such a morbid topic at the ball, I could see that this was a matter of some interest to the _ton_. Lord Aubyn did not bat an eyelash; he seemed completely nonchalant, as if we were discussing the weather rather than the death of his parents.

"Yes. It was." He seemed to have nothing more to say on the subject as he turned resolutely away from Renee and stepped closer to me.

The gold of his eyes were nearly glowing now, a frightening sort of fury lurking and lighting that unnerving gaze. None of it showed in his movements however as he bowed and took my gloved hand.

A curious sort of tension coiled in my hand and I fought the urge to close my fingers tightly around his. As if reading my thoughts, his clasped mine in a tight grip and began leading me away.

"Come, Miss Swan, I believe this is my set." He murmured as he began to pull me towards the crowded ballroom.

I balked. No! I did not dance well…and he had not even asked!

A waltz was beginning and a flurry of panic lit like a flame within my chest. Oh merciful heavens…a waltz! I was a positive disaster at the waltz; my dance instructor had nervously insisted I avoid the dance at all costs while he had nursed his poor feet; and he the right of it…I simply couldn't…

"Your Grace! I'm…well…" I searched my mind desperately for a reason to excuse myself from the dance and my eyes quickly alighted upon the crowded dance floor with something akin to desperation.

"Look!" I gestured frantically toward throng of couples. "It really would be quite a crush, and with this awful heat, a dance would be terribly inelegant."

Lord Aubyn did not even pause in his confident stride. "It won't be a problem." He assured. And it wasn't. As if like magic, the sea of aristocrats parted as he moved through them, creating an intimate little circle of space at the centre of the dance floor.

I was gaping in the most unladylike manner when I felt him draw to a halt within this circle of space and turn to face me.

"Any other complaints, Miss Swan?"

I blushed to the roots of my hair and searched frantically for another excuse. Ah-ha!

"I'm afraid I have not attended Almack's as of yet and I have not sought the permission of the patronesses to waltz…thus you see it would be extremely inappropriate for me to waltz with you and shirk…"

"You are not missing much, Miss Swan." He interrupted mildly. "The punch is weak, the food is near inedible and the dance floor is appallingly uneven…besides, my dearest aunt Esme is a patroness of that particular marriage mart and she would be more than happy to vouch for you."

He raised my hand to rest it within his and stepped closer, wrapping a lithely muscular arm around my waist. Heat sped through me like fed flames as his legs brushed my ball gown as he pulled me almost inappropriately close.

"You best hold your skirts, Miss Swan, less you trip over them."

I glanced around quickly and copied the other ladies standing around me within the circle of their gentlemen's arms and lifted the white silk just enough to ensure I wouldn't step on them during the waltz.

"Your Grace…I'm afraid I really don't dance terribly well." I confessed as a last desperate measure, my eyes pleading with his. Curious…the intense gold was fading into that deep emerald once more.

His lips curved into a crooked grin and my back stiffened in embarrassment. Damn the man, he would find my misery amusing…

"It's too late for such reservations I'm afraid, Miss Swan."

As if waiting for his cue, the tuning orchestra began the waltz in earnest, the sorrowful strains of the cello mingling with the lively leading tune of the violins.

"Watch me, Miss Swan, not your feet." He murmured; his voice, while quiet, carried easily over the music.

As he began to lead me in graceful swirls around the floor in time with the music, his eyes met and locked with mine and my sense deserted me at once. Oh dear. My feet moved seemingly without any conscious thought on my part and I moved in perfect synch with his. As we spun, his long legs crushed my skirts and brushed my thighs, sending the heat swirling through the hazy daze in my mind.

Oh God. No wonder so many considered the waltz scandalous.

He felt it too. I could see the knowledge in his eyes, the pleased spark alight within his eyes; but instead of moving to a more respectful distance, I felt the arm around my waist tense and pull me closer, the long elegant fingers spreading out possessively along the small of my back.

I flushed nervously and gasped at the sensation.

His keen ears seemed to have caught the sound and as I watched on curiously, the emerald fragments of his eyes gave way to gold once more, good God! What manner of devilish trick was this?

I was tempted to struggle in his grasp but I was afraid to lose my rhythm within in the waltz and that would surely end in disaster. Instead, I opted for glaring at him.

"Sir," I whispered emphatically between clenched teeth. "You go too far!"

The nerve of him, he simply chuckled deeply, sending a fission of dark dread snaking into my stomach.

"My parents are watching." I tried again.

"So is the rest of _ton_ I suspect." He added with satisfaction, his eyes gleaming down at me.

"You are trying to ruin me!" I accused.

The impertinent man just chuckled again. "Come now, Isabella. No one can be ruined by a simple waltz. I'm not that talented."

I gasped indignantly, suddenly feeling wildly out of control of my own nerves. Heaven knows I must be as red as a tomato by now.

"I did not give you leave to use my Christian name. To do so is a most offensive assumption of intimacy! And one can certainly be ruined by a dance…"

There was an intensely dark flicker within his eyes.

"I believe you are thinking of a more _primal_ form of dance, Miss Swan."

His eyes became hooded as if to shield me from his thoughts but he need not have bothered; I remember reading all those anatomy books from papa's library and sneaking those novels mama so favoured. I had a fair idea of what went on between a man and a woman in the darkness of their private rooms.

I began struggling in earnest within the iron firm circle of his arms.

"Now, now Miss Swan, no need to fan the flames of gossip; I'm afraid leaving me in the middle of our waltz will do you no favours. It would be somewhat suggestive of inappropriate doings, wouldn't you say?" There was no amusement in his eyes despite his light teasing tone, only that damnable intensity as his eyes held mine firmly.

"You are trying to ruin me!" I accused once more.

Lord Edward released a _faux_ long suffering sigh and dipped his head dangerously close to mine; his face coming too close for comfort.

"No, my dear Isabella, for that purpose I would have kissed you already."

An indignant squeak escaped my lips as I clutched his hand in what I hoped was a painful grip, my thoughts taking a rather vengeful tenor.

"The only thing stopping me," he continued, seemingly oblivious to my grip. "Is that I haven't quite decided if I would rather have you for my mistress or my wife."

I saw red. Perhaps this was why mama disliked him so. The man was a scoundrel…an absolute rogue.

"I know you rakes enjoy ruining innocent women, but I won't be one of them! I won't lie down and take it, do you understand me?" I hissed. God, I hoped the movements of the dance concealed my clearly hostile expression, mama always said I was easier to read than an open book.

"What an interesting choice of words." The spark in his eyes turned into a barely controlled simmer of heat. "I would advise against resistance Isabella, you will only make me all that more determined." He paused contemplatively. "Perhaps I should kiss you now, your parents would be most happy to accept me when I petition for your hand."

Anger warred with fear in my heart and tears of frustration began stinging my eyes. I blinked them away quickly, cursing myself for the weakness but he was quick and observant.

"Do not cry dearest, would you not love to be a Duchess? Silks, ribbons, pearls and diamonds…perhaps a barouche with a matching set of greys…" His voice was harsh and unforgiving as if I had done something horrendous. "…A townhouse in St. James Square, a Palace in Cornwall? Well?"

I was breathing harshly, my eyes narrowed. "I want nothing from you!" Good Lord! When was this damnable waltz going to end? The anger simmering in my heart demanded I reach out and slap that expression from his face but I would only make a spectacle of myself and God knows how that could turn out…but any longer in his hold and I might just lose my temper.

Mercifully, the waltz began to draw to a soaring conclusion and Lord Edward had lowered his eyes from mine. As the final notes rung out, I was relieved to be released from the cage of his arms and ready to flee when we stopped by the edge of the dance floor, near the rim of spectators, consisting mostly of the society matrons and keen gossip-mongers (much of the older gentlemen had likely retreated to the card room) watching keenly and analysing every move we made.

I began pulling away, my expression of fury barely concealed beneath the fallible veneer of polite interest. He saw right past it but the pleasant smile remained on his arrogant countenance as he held firm to my gloved hand.

"Thank you for the honour of the dance, Miss Swan." He said clearly, suddenly all beguiling charm and smiles. "Will you allow me the pleasure of calling on you tomorrow at your home?"

The breath escaped between my clenched teeth in a hiss just as a collective gasp came from the surrounding spectators who were all watching the scene with avid interest; none of them even bothered to conceal their blatant eavesdropping.

There was no way out of such a situation. To deny a powerful Duke so publicly would be social suicide…mama would never forgive me…dear God, papa would never forgive me. I resisted the urge to bare my teeth and hiss…it would undoubtedly be considered _gauche_.

With considerable reluctance, I nodded my assent, not trusting myself to speak polite words.

The ass had the nerve to smile…quite charmingly in fact and the surrounding ladies released a collective sigh.

"Until tomorrow then…by and by, Miss Swan, you dance very well." He kissed my gloved fingers lingeringly and gave me a heady look before disappearing into the crowd.

It was only then that I realised I had danced well…not a single stumble or graceless tumble. Damn the man! I was breathing heavily I realised and tried to quickly calm myself and cool the fierce angry blush upon my cheeks.

Oh God. I lifted my head and instantly found mama's furious form marching towards me as papa trailed worriedly behind. Oh no…no, no, no…

Acting on instinct I turned and fled into the crowds. I could not answer mama's questions now…I had not the energy to lie convincingly.

I wasn't watching where I was going; I cared only to find an isolated spot to collect my scattered wits. At one point, I caught sight of the arrogant scoundrel once more standing near a burly gentleman with a magnificent blonde beauty on his arm and turned quickly before he saw me.

It wasn't long however before I found an empty corridor and slid open one of the unlocked doors to find a small parlour with a damask chaise lounge. Closing the door behind me, I allowed myself to sink unceremoniously onto the couch, crushing the white silk beneath me.

"Bella."

I screamed; my heart in my throat as I leapt to my feet and swivelled to face the intruder upon my peace. When my eyes alighted upon the figure, framed by the moonlit backdrop, I lowered my tensed shoulders.

"Goodness Angela…you frightened me."

The girl smiled quietly and came forward, clasping my hands in greeting before dropping to the chaise gently, pulling me down beside her.

"What has you in such agitation, Bella?" She asked, concern lacing her voice.

For a moment, I considered confessing it all to her, but the idea was quickly swept from my mind. No, I would never be comfortable sharing such things with anyone, so instead, I shook my head gently.

"I dislike this ball greatly." I said.

Angela nodded, her curls bobbing with her movements. "As do I…I hate these things, but mama simply cannot accept that I'm a wall flower, no gentleman ever takes an interest in me."

I allowed myself a bitter chuckle. "Count yourself fortunate." I said with false cheer. "Or you might find yourself receiving some rather unwelcome advances."

Angela laughed gaily along with me, oblivious to my mood. "How right you are." She sent me a sheepish glance. "But I suppose hiding in here is not inducive to attracting attention. I should return before mama accuses me of deliberately vexing her."

She rose from the seat and straightened her skirt quickly. "Come along Bella; let us enjoy what is left of the night."

I shook my head, breathing deeply. "No, you go ahead Angela. I will come find you later."

But I didn't. In fact, I sought no one for the last hour of the ball, I wandered around aimlessly, avoiding mama and deliberately avoiding any sign or mention of Lord Edward.

It didn't help however.

Every other moment, I would feel that suspicious itch at the back of my scalp. That familiar feeling of being watched would descend upon me once more and I would shrug my shoulders and move into a crowd to avoid the searing heat of his gaze.

I knew he watched me. I knew it. I did not need to see his eyes to know they must be gold in colour.

For the rest of the night I felt hunted…like a deer pacing cautiously through the forest, all the while knowing the hunter lurked in the very same shadows which protected me. I did not like the feeling…and I resented my own weakness and caution. Edward Cullen put me on edge. I would gladly confess to it. But how…how to stop him…how would one stop a Duke who had every resource at the tips of his elegant fingers?

When finally, I stepped into our carriage with aching feet and heavy eyes, mama seemed utterly infuriated and papa was resolutely silent.

"I specifically instructed you to stay away from that man! I said that –"

I rubbed my eyes tiredly, not ready for any unnecessary arguments.

"Mama…you simply said it wasn't necessary to catch a Duke, not that I should…"

"You should not have introduced yourself to him!" Lady Swan interrupted ungraciously, her face flushed even in the darkness of the carriage.

"It was not my doing!" I pleaded. "Lord Crowhurst introduced us when he approached!"

"Then you most certainly should not have agreed to a dance! A waltz no less! You have not had the express permission of Almack's patronesses…"

I felt my throat close tightly but managed to force out the words in my defence. "I did not accept any dance, he had not even asked when he pulled me onto the dance floor…I told him I had not yet attended Almack's but he insisted his aunt could vouch for me…it was not my choice mama; but I am sorry…"

There was a moment of frigid silence before Renee tore her gaze away from the Mayfair scenery passing by the carriage window.

"Is he truly coming to call tomorrow, Isabella Marie?"

I swallowed and nodded. "It could not be helped mama; he asked my permission right before all the watching ladies."

Mama hissed. "The snake! I won't allow it…I won't allow him to have my only daughter! After what he's done…!"

Charles Swan laid a restraining arm on mama's hand.

"What's done is done. Bella was quite right; it would not do to refuse a Duke before so many witnesses." Turning towards me, he gave me a somewhat strained reassuring smile. "We shall receive the Duke of Aubyn tomorrow with all the dignity and ceremony as befitting his station."

Mama let out another furious breath, her eyes averted from her husband and child.

I bit my lip…I had to ask, there was nothing else for it.

"Why do you dislike his Grace, mama?"

Renee never answered my question. She only closed her eyes tiredly and laid her head against the squabs. In fact, she did not speak another word to me all that night.

* * *

A/N: And here is the second chapter. I know Edward is a little OOC, but that serves a purpose and you never know what lies underneath all that bluster.

Please Review!

Twilight to Midnight


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